To Live Again
by bunny500
Summary: Dad Egbert- or was it Crocker? Wakes up alive again in a whole new world. What is he to do when John and Jane bring home a couple of purple blooded friends? Why, befriend their father, Grant Highbrood, of course!
1. Chapter 1

(A/N): Just an idea I couldn't get out of my head c: I plan on continuing, but we all know how that goes lol. Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy!

-=0=-

Waking up was a strange experience. Last he knew, he had been dead- murdered in some morphed world by what had seemed to be a deranged dog-man in cold blood. He assumed the lovely woman who he had been having a quiet dinner with had perished in a very similar manner but he had no real way of knowing. Because he had been dead- but had he died? Hadn't Jane been acting, well, entirely inappropriate? He remembered being stern with her and displaying his most effective disapproving look from his prison cell. What prison cell? Hadn't he been free as a bird to wander about that strange land and search for his lost son?

His mind swirled with these contradictions and his head pounded. It became even more jumbled when he thought of his parentage. He fought back these confusing thoughts and patted at his pockets with a sort of mild desperation in search of his wallet sylladex. His pipe would be a most welcome addition to his person at this moment. To his disappointment, his inventory appeared to have wandered off into the great blue yonder, and he remained pipe-less. With this upset in mind, he decided to examine his surroundings.

To his astonishment, he was in his very own bed. He was also in his bedroom. Everything was perfectly in its place and his home was silent. Well, for a moment at least. Suddenly, her heard John and Jane shouting in excitement down the hall, next their feet against the floorboards of the hall, and finally his door bursting open so hard it hit the wall. Both of his children (his parents? His mind asked in confusion) were standing in the doorway looking at him in open wonder. He returned the look. There were his babies, and oddly enough John was just as young as he had been before all of this nonsense started while Jane was at least fifteen.

They both started smiling, Jane in that sort of hesitant, _afraid-to-believe-this-is-real_ way that she did after a particularly bad dream and John in his _oh-my-god-this-is-great-and-amazing-and-exciting _way that he did when he was little and had gotten the birthday present he had been hoping for. Reflexively, he grinned back, wide and welcoming, his heart warm and happy to see them both at home. He got up just as they were running to him. They knocked him right back on his bum with warm hugs and he held them tightly, almost afraid to let go. Afraid they'd disappear again and he'd be left wondering if they were safe while he was helpless to protect them.

He kept his arms wrapped around them for as long as they would allow, until John started squawking about how he should let go already and Jane was poking at his arm. Both of them were still smiling so hard it looked like it hurt when he let them loose and he knew his own face was a match for theirs. They dragged him downstairs so they could have breakfast together and told him about their adventures while he worked in the kitchen. He absently noted that things looked…different outside as he glanced out of the kitchen windows, but ignored investigating in favor of listening to his children. His heart ached when he thought of the friends they'd lost, if only temporarily. Both of them had grown up so much since he'd last seen them, and while it felt like it had only been a week at most for him, it was so much longer for them.

His little babies had grown up so much and suffered more than he ever wanted them to. He wanted to wrap his arms around them and hold them forever, safe and warm at home, far away from the dangers they had faced. Instead he nodded his head and made them pancakes and sausage and tried not to frown too hard as he listened. Right now they needed him to smile and pay attention to them, not coddle them and hide them away, no matter how much he wanted to. Whether or not any of them were ready for it, his babies had grown up, and they still needed him, but they also needed independence and breathing room. He knew that this would come eventually, but his mind held on to when he last saw them, how they had been so innocent and needed him to protect them. They had just suddenly grown up while he wasn't even there.

But that was just the way things had played out and he let it go as they set out the plates. They had grown far beyond their age but he knew that at least now he would be there. He was still their dad and they were still his precious children. Until he was dead and gone again he would be there for them come hell or high water. He cherished his time with them as they sat at the table, listened to their stories, and prayed that he could keep them for much, much longer to whatever deity was listening.

-=1=-

As it turned out, both of his children were such deities, as were all of their friends, after they beat the game. And, as it happened, he was apparently a minor power because he was their guardian. As for as they knew, they were all immortal and had some power over nature, so long as it did not conflict with any of their fellow gods. It all went a bit over his head but they had won the game and designed this new world by the best bits and pieces from both of their worlds. The aliens, Trolls, had helped his children save their universe, and now they could share the spoils on a planet of their design. Overall, it sounded like a fitting reward, if a bit much power in children's hands (let alone _his_ children's hands).

From the time shenanigans they took pains to explain to him, he was both a father and a child to them, but they could only remember being his children, not his parents, who were coincidentally still dead or possibly never existed. It all seemed rather convoluted to him, but he supposed that it wasn't that important that he really understood so long as they did. Feeling a little overwhelmed, he asked them to give him a little time to process it all. Looking mildly nervous (Jane had a pinched _please-don't-be-too-terribly-upset-by-all-this _look and John sported the old _are-you-sure-you're-okay_ frown), they let him take out his pipe and have a couple of minutes to think things over while they went to wash the dishes. When they returned, he had settled down a bit and was willing to hear more if they had anything to offer.

They skimmed over the final bits of the entire endeavor, making it obvious that they were avoiding something that they thought would upset him. He almost pressed them about it, but the troubled looks on their faces convinced him otherwise. Instead, he tried to offer them comfort as they finished explaining what had happened. He gave them each a nice, long hug and told them how proud he was of them. Both of them had passed far above anything that he could have asked of them and had been so strong throughout that twisted game. They deserved all of the praise he could muster and he told them so. Jane's teary-eyed smile and John's watery eyed, face splitting grin were all that he needed in the world in that moment. Now that this game was over, they were home and safe, and he would do all he could to shelter them until they were ready to face the world.

-=2=-

John and Jane stayed at home and did not leave his side for a week after that. To him, it seemed that they were trying to get used to the idea of having him around again, that and a new sibling. Especially John, who had spent years outside of his care, who looked at him as if it were a wonder just to see his face and hear his voice again. It almost seemed like he had forgotten in some ways what he was like and how to live with him. His heart ached for his little boy who looked at him like it was a surprise every time he told him not to do something, or pulled out his pipe, or suddenly appeared out of nowhere offering him a delicious slice of homemade cake. So many things that felt like the norm for him threw John off kilter, left him in confused silence for a couple of moments before he could even think of how to respond.

Jane seemed to mostly remember her way of life. Occasionally a loud clatter would set her shaking or she'd have terrible nightmares about lost friends. But she had not seen her father die, had only seen him safe behind bars while out of her mind, and didn't view him with the some upset, astonishment, or wonder as John seemed to. She hadn't had to get used to the idea that her father may never be brought back or had to take care of herself for years without him. She knew how to live with him and still act like his child. John knew too, but it was buried under the shock of losing him and having to be independent for so long. And really, he knew that John couldn't help it, but that didn't stop it from breaking his heart every time John looked at him as if he wasn't sure if he'd remembered him right or like he might leave him all alone again.

They stayed home for a whole week, and kept up with their friends online, and went on walks with him around the neighborhood as he studied his new environment. But they couldn't stay home forever and as they began to find their balance as a unit, began to feel safe and at home again, they also started to miss their friends. While they wanted to stay at home and get things settled there, they also wanted to go meet with their friends and spend some time together with them without the stress of impending doom hanging over their heads.

So, on a Monday, an exact week from when they had all been returned to each other, he sent them of to go sleep over at a friend's house. He heard John mention Dave and Jane mention Jade, something about time space shenanigans and an island, and he sent them out the door and told them to have a good time and give him a call when they got there safe, maybe even once every night just so he could make sure. John rolled his eyes and Jane gave him an indulgent smile before they both were out the door. He smiled and waved, told himself that they_ would_ come home and he didn't have to worry, and settled in to have a peaceful couple of nights home alone.

He spent that time baking cakes for his neighbors to cope with the fact that his children were away. Some of his neighbors, especially those of the Trollish variety, seemed hesitant to accept to his good graces, but in the end he made sure that everyone on the block knew him and would remember him by the flavor of his cake. He also smoked a bit more out of his pipe than he should have, took long walks, and tried to see if he could contact some of his old friends online. A couple of his friends and coworkers seemed to have ceased to exist- no matter how he searched for their birth or user names online. A couple of them appeared to still exist, but he had no way of knowing for sure if they knew him in this life or not. He didn't want to cause anyone undue distress by showing up out of nowhere with their contact information, so he left them alone and hoped that a few of them would remember him as their chum and check in with him eventually.

Overall, the couple of days that his children spent with their friends were mundane and somewhat lonely. He ended up baking an extra two cakes with no one around to eat them. He barely stopped himself from making more- only the memory of how his mother used to bake when she was upset and how it always made him sick with worry convinced him to stop. Of all the habits to pick up from her, this wasn't a terrible one, but he didn't want John and Jane to get home only to worry about him. He didn't want them to feel trapped in the house just because he was a worry wart. So instead he pulled out a couple of his old favorite books and settled down to read.

-=3=-

After three days away, they called him to let him know they'd be home that evening and to ask if they could bring a couple of guests with them. He answered with a 'yes, of course' and told them he loved them and would happy to see them soon. John made little barfing noises while Jane responded in kind and the call ended. He set out on a mission that morning- the house would be ready for guests by noon. He cleaned throughout the entire house, paying special attention to the guest bedroom, until the whole place was sparkling. He made sure that they were well stocked on blankets, food, and movies (one couldn't have a good sleep over without a good movie after all) before he finally settled down enough to go outside and check that the yard was well mowed. It was of course, no good dad left a lawn unmown after all- or at least that's what his father had once said to him (it had probably been a joke but he took it to heart anyway).

His house was perfect by eleven. This was both a good and a bad thing. For one, he had nothing to worry about because everything was set out. However, that also meant he had nothing else to do. He didn't know for sure when the kids would be home, so he didn't know whether or not he should get started on dinner or start thinking about the _hello-and-welcome-to-our-home _cake. Fiddling with his appearance beyond his usual morning routine was not really his cup of tea. So, he went to go look at his book collection with fatherly concern. While the kids were away, he'd reread the parenting, gardening, and decorating manuals along with a couple of classics that his parents had left him (he didn't know how since he didn't even have any pictures of them or clues that they had existed, especially since they were now his kids, but he was glad that they did). In the end he settled on reading a guide on how to deliver a good joke to pass the time.

When he finally heard his children outside on the lawn the clock read four and he had almost finished the book. With a smile and a put-upon sigh, he set down the book and headed to the front door to greet them. He opened the front door with a welcoming smile on his face and was only a little thrown by the appearance of his guests. Still, his smile did not falter as he took them in. His children had brought home three guests, all trolls and all very similar. They were all on the ridiculous side of tall, with broad shoulders, an overbite, and tall, twisting horns. If he had to guess, he would say that they were all related.

Among them, there was a gargantuan figure who demanded nothing but the full and unwavering attention of any passerby. This one he guessed to be the father of the two smaller trolls and to be truthful he cut an intimidating figure. While the younger two were lanky and looked relatively harmless for all of their height, he had ridiculous amounts of muscle to back it up, and a scowl to match. His face was painted into a skull like mask, with many and intricate detail, and his clothes were all black, grey, and purple polka-dots and stripes. While he resembled a clown in some ways, his demeanor was anything but playful, and while they were still talking and having fun, the children had an air of caution about them. Of his children, the older one had similar skull-design to his face paint, but in a more playful way that matched his skeleton suit. The younger one wore paint more similar to an actual clown but wore clothes with all of the same polka-dots, stripes, and bagginess as his father.

"Hey dad!" John said, smiling in a way that hinted at relief. Jane mirrored his look, but said nothing, only reaching over to hug him when John did. He gave them a hug and then motioned to their guests.

"Let's not be rude. I have yet to learn the names of these fine gentlemen." At least, he hoped they were all male- it looked like it, but one could never be entirely certain.

"This is Gamzee and that's Kurloz," said Jane, stepping back to stand close (but not _too_ close) to Gamzee.

"I see," he said, nodding to both of them "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Then he turned his gaze to the man standing in the back, his smile abruptly falling. "And who might you be?"

He was Grant Highbrood, at least, that was what he hoped his name was, it was hard to tell when his speech seemed so garbled by growling it out so hard.

"Nice to meet you Grant," He said, smile reappearing, "I'm Mr. Crocker-Eggbert."


	2. Chapter 2

[A/N: I hope you guys like this chapter! c: I'm not sure if I want Egbert/GHB to be red or pale though. If you guys have any thoughts on this, tell me!]

"Nice to meet you Grant," he said, smile reappearing, "I'm Mr. Crocker-Egbert."

He extended a hand to the gargantuan man as the children went silent (they looked strangely alarmed). Grant looked at it as if offered an exceedingly ugly sweater, his face alternating between being disgusted, offended, or puzzled by it. Eventually though, he took it in his hand and gave it an extremely light shake before dropping it quickly. He couldn't help it, his smile broadened at the acceptance of his offer of friendship. He nodded to the troll before gathering up the children and taking them inside, leaving the door open so that the other adult could enter at his leisure.

"So kids, what were you all wanting for dinner?" he asked as Jane offered their two young guests a seat on the couch.

"Pizza," John said immediately, "It's been forever since I've had pizza."

Jane gave him a look, but started nodding anyway.

"Are you two okay with that?" he asked, looking over to the visitors.

"Yeah," said Gamzee, "I don't got any idea what a motherfucking 'pit-za' is but it sounds bitch-tits."

He frowned a little at the cursing, but knew it wasn't his place to discipline someone else's child, and looked over to Kurloz for confirmation. He nodded his head, and he seemed mildly curious, although it was hard to tell with his face paint. Grant still hadn't entered the house, but he was a perfectly reasonable adult and could be left to his own devices. Besides, it was unlikely that he would reject the meal if his kids were so amiable. So, he decided to make his way into the kitchen and get started on dinner and the cake. He still had those two cakes in his inventory, but those were casual cakes, and didn't have the sort of perfect decorating that he would want guests to first experience in his house. As he started gathering ingredients, he heard the kids set up the video-game station, and the tell-tale noises of a Mario-themed racing game.

He was about half way through making the mix for the crust when he heard the front door finally close. This was good, but didn't seem to require his attention, so he kept on with what he was doing. However, as things quieted down to a silence similar to that of a grave-yard, he couldn't help but peek his head in. He set down the bowl on the counter and leaned through the partial door between the living room and kitchen. Mr. Highbrood was off to the side, standing silently with his back against one of the walls. The children seemed wary of him and were sitting in tense silence while still pretending to pay attention to the now much quieter game.

He coughed gently into his fist before speaking, "Is everything alright in here?"

The kids quietly nodded, and John said, "Yeah, everything's fine." But they were all still glancing over to the brooding adult troll. He looked over to the man, raising his eyebrows at him in silent question. He said nothing, but his shoulders tensed slightly. It seemed it was time to take one for the team here.

"Well, I could use some help in the kitchen if you don't mind, Grant…?"

With a huff closely resembling a growl, the troll stepped away from the wall and approached the kitchen.

"Thank you."

"Not a motherfucking problem."

He led the way into the room, even holding the door open for him, and then went back to the bowl which held the dough for the pizza crust. He picked it up and pushed it into the taller man's palms.

"Here, could you knead this for me? Not very hard, mind."

He received a befuddled look from the man, who glanced from him to the bowl and back again.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." He said, reaching to grab another bowl from the cabinets. He got started on mixing more- after all, with so many teenagers in the house they'd need at least three pizzas. Perhaps more, if he planned on having any himself.

"You know," he said after a while, "maybe you should talk to your son- Gamzee, was it?- about that potty mouth of his."

"What?" Grant growled back.

"There's really not a need for such foul language."

"I don't know what you're motherfucking talking about, human."

At that, he turned his gaze to Grant. He put on his best I-am-unimpressed frown.

"I don't like to have cursing in my home, Mr. Highbrood. And I will have you know that I am Mr. Egbert and I'd prefer it if you called me that."

"I don't give a motherfuck what you want." His lost look is gone then, replaced instead by a scowl, and his voice rumbled so hard and loud that it sent echoes through Egbert's chest.

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" He may not have the ability to literally growl like a dog at people, but he could most certainly be intimidating. Especially on one of the few occasions that someone had earned his ire.

"I just said I don't give a **motherfuck** what you want!"

"Oh, is that right?" Egbert set down his bowl on the counter and rested his hands on his hips.

"**Yes.**"

"Alright. Then get out."

Again, the troll blinked down at him in confusion.

"What?"

"I said get out."

Anger once again began to color Grant's face.

"I welcomed you readily into my home and asked one very small thing from you. It would have been quite alright for you to refuse to follow that rule, but to try and threaten me? That is _not _acceptable. Especially not with children in the house."

"What? Do you think you can **make** me leave?"

"Yes, I can- and I will if you don't behave yourself."

Grant let out a loud cackle, "That's** hilarious**, human- **fucking mirthful**."

Dad grabbed hold of Grant's arm, his grip solid and unyielding. Highbrood looked down at it, surprise written across his face. He tried to jerk his arm away but his attempts did nothing. Egbert led him out the door, ignoring his resistance. Finally Grant seemed to have had enough and threw a fist his way. Since Dad had been dragging him away, he didn't see it coming in time to block it. He was thrown onto the ground by the force of it, but go up and turned to face him quickly, ignoring the slack-jawed faces of the children on the couch. Grant sent him a feral grin from across the room. Dad stood slowly, keeping his eyes on the troll.

"_Not _inside." He said plainly.

Grants face scrunched up in confusion again, "What?" he asked.

"If you want to fight me, we're going to do it outside."

Grant scowled as Egbert headed for the door and for a moment he didn't think he was going to follow. His thirst for blood apparently surpassed his dislike of following simple directions and he made his way out of the house.

"That's some blueblood strength you've go there." Grant growled out.

Dad wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but assumed it was some sort of troll terminology, and nodded. He raised his fists and waited. Grant didn't charge in like he'd expected, instead, he circled around like a predator as he snatched his clubs from his sylladex. He kept his eyes on him as he made his way around. Then, finally the troll struck out with his weapon. Dad dodged down with ease and used his momentum to deliver a blow to his stomach. They fought like that for a while- alternating between dodging and hitting each other, but eventually Highbrood seemed to be satisfied.

Breathing hard and tired, he remained in a defensive stance until Grant spoke.

"You've got Mirth, human. I like it. I'll follow your motherfucking rules as long as you keep being entertaining!"

Dad couldn't help but grin back. As much as he fought to be the perfect father and avoid violence near his children, he always enjoyed a good bout of strife. He leaned back and rolled his shoulders.

"I'm afraid I can't do this too often. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"How old are you?" Grant asked.

"I'm in my forties."

"Forty sweeps?"

"No, no. I'm about forty-three years old. I believe that's… somewhere around twenty sweeps?"

Grant's eyebrows raised, "Damn. And you're already this motherfucking old? How long do you fuckers live anyway?"

"Well, to give you an idea, I'm about half-way through my lifespan."

"Shit. That's too short."

"On that note, how old are you?" Dad asked.

"I'm about… 4,600 something sweeps."

"Ahh and that's… how many years?"

"I don't motherfucking know- 10,000 I think?"

"Oh." Egbert felt a little light headed at the number- he wouldn't even make it to a _quarter of a_ _quarter _of that number (although with the fact that he was now apparently a minor deity, maybe he would). He got himself together after a moment and started to head for the door. "Well, I'd better go get cleaned up. I still need to make dinner after all."

Grant let him go. Although Dad didn't see it, Highbrood kept his eyes on him until he closed the door, an odd look on his face. Dad made his way into the main room and smiled at the children despite the fact that he'd just gotten in a fight in front of them.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, "I shouldn't have let my temper go like that."

"We thought you were going to die!" John yelled suddenly.

He blinked at his son, surprised by the outburst. John didn't really look concerned, and maybe he was joking, but it still stung a bit. Did John think he would willingly get in a fight he knew he wouldn't win? That he'd just leave him and Jane like that? He knew that John wasn't thinking those things, but he still worried about it.

"Did you think you'd get rid of me that easily?" He asked, offering a smile in place of the worried frown that wanted to find its way onto his features. John and Jane grinned back and the anxiety in his heart eased.

"Well, one can always hope!" Jane replied playfully.

He laughed, then took a moment to look at the two new boys in his house. Gamzee and Kurloz seemed to be staring at him in awe. He offered a small smile to them too.

"I'm sorry for getting in an argument with your father in front of you." He said sheepishly.

"Naw, it's okay dad-human," said Gamzee, eyes wide, "Just didn't expect you to be able to motherfucking handle him in a fight."

"That's understandable I suppose. He said I had 'blue-blood strength'? Also, go ahead and call me Mr. Egbert, it is my name after all."

"Motherfucking bitch-tits Mr. Egbert," he said with a wide grin- it looked a little silly on him, with his overbite and sharp teeth that were too big for his mouth, but he looked oddly cute anyway, like a smaller, more harmless version of Grant.

"Anyway, I'd better go get cleaned up." He said, looking down at his shirt, which now stuck to his back with sweat.

He meandered off as the kids giggled and chatted at each other.

-=1=-

When he stepped out of the shower, he looked up to find Grant in the doorway. Feeling very fortunate that he'd had the sense to wrap a towel around his waist before getting out, he stared at the troll, who was at that moment looking him over. Heat rose to his cheeks and he very deliberately cleared his throat. Grant looked up from his waist and met his eyes, his face unapologetic.

"It is polite," Egbert began, "to wait to come into the restroom until the previous person _in it _has left."

"And I would care why?" asked Grant.

"Because," said Egbert, "You are in my home and I'd like it if you showed some common courtesy."

"Why should I care?"

Dad sighed, attempting to shoo Grant out of the restroom.

"Last I recall," he said, after getting the troll outside of the door "You said you'd follow my rules."

"Only as long as you _entertain _me_._" Highbrood shot back, leaning inward with his hand on the door frame.

Dad shut the door in his face.

Grant laughed and he couldn't help but smile in response. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.


End file.
